


please wake up/i love you

by petalloso



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coma, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalloso/pseuds/petalloso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One second there he is, smiling brightly at Kageyama, and the next, a flash of orange and red, a loud screech, and the smile has vanished. He remembers being confused for a moment, before seeing, before realizing, and lurching forward, a cry stuck on his lips, falling beside the small and still body of a dying boy.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	please wake up/i love you

**Author's Note:**

> this is so sad. im sorry. Hinata goes into a coma. Kageyama deals with unspoken feelings that now may never get the chance to not be.

It happens the last day before school begins for the year. One second there he is, smiling brilliantly at Kageyama, who only scowls in return, and the next, a flash of orange and red, a loud screech, and the smile has vanished. Kageyama remembers being confused for a moment, before seeing, before realizing, and lurching forward, a cry stuck on his lips, falling beside the small and still body of Hinata, knees banging so hard onto the street it leaves dark purple bruises later.

He tries to keep the blood at bay, but too much gushes out too fast, and his hands are sticky with it, and it hurts it hurts it hurts so much, because Hinata doesn’t even say anything, only looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, spluttering up more blood, and Kageyama doesn’t know what to do to stop this, but he can’t hear anything or feel anything or see anything because all he feels is numbness except his hands on Hinata. He doesn’t realize someone prying him off until he is yanked so hard he falls backwards, his bloody hands leaving Hinata, and he punches so hard his fists throb, but the person, all the people holding him back are stronger than he, and he can’t really see anything except red, and bright, bright orange.

* * *

 

They don’t tell him right away, because of the fragile way he holds himself, curling inward, because of the look in his eyes, desperate and terrified and wrong. He sits in the waiting room for ten hours straight, teammates sprinkling in every few hours to wait with him. When he finally catches sight of Hinata’s parents coming out, their faces exhausted and sad, he springs from his seat and runs to them. But Hinata’s mother only tells him the surgery went well, that he needs to rest now. When Kageyama asks if he can see him, she only shakes her head, smiling sadly through him, saying Hinata can’t see anyone right now, because he’s sleeping. She does not tell him he will probably not wake up.

Kageyama doesn’t go to school the first day back, or the second, or the third. He waits and waits, silently, the expression on his face hollow. His mother watches him carefully, but he doesn’t seem to hear or see anything, like in a trance, like his limbs move only out of necessity, his lungs only to keep him breathing, his heart only to keep him alive, but his mind remains constantly preoccupied with thoughts his mother fears will dwindle her son away until he vanishes entirely. Still, there is hope lit his eyes, however small, when she looks to him.

When they do finally decide to tell Kageyama exactly the extent of Hinata’s injuries, after three days of his pacing, his constant requests to see Hinata, he doesn’t respond. He stares blankly at no one, at nothing, and feels as if something inside him has broken, snapped clean in half, like someone has dug a violent hand into his chest and yanked his beating heart out with no remorse. Someone tries to touch his shoulder, as a comfort maybe, he doesn’t know, but he twitches away. They try to speak to him, but he cannot hear and won’t respond and he feels like he’s back where he was before, trying to keep Hinata from dying, and back further, when Hinata wasn’t a part of his life at all. He doesn’t want to remember the loneliness, the desolate thing that was him.

He turns away from the hospital doors and runs, his mother calling out to him. He runs and runs, even though he doesn’t know where he’s going and doesn’t care to. It’s raining now, and he almost laughs at that, droplets of water falling to hit him, mixing with salty tears that streak his cheeks, because how hilarious that the sky decided there wouldn’t be any more sun just as the universe decided there would be no more Hinata. Kageyama runs until he can no longer breathe and then runs more. His clothes are soaked and he almost slips on the muddy ground several times, and he’s sobbing now, uncontrollably, wretchedly, the sound of a dying heart drowned out by the splatter of rain and claps of thunder. His foot hits a rock and he trips, falling face first into a puddle, scraping his knees, his hands and elbows. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. The bruises will be worse now that he’s banged his knees again, and it will hurt to walk now and he feels like he can’t breathe but he doesn’t care. He only cries and cries until there is nothing left in him at all, until the rain stops and the air stills and the sky turns into blackness. He doesn’t stop until he’s empty.

* * *

 

It’s interesting, a certain person’s absence. Kageyama can’t remember classmates who’ve moved away or switched schools, though he’s sure there have been. He just can’t seem to conjure up a face or a name for any. He remembers empty desks that no one looked twice at, names called out by a teacher who forgot they no longer came here, but then forgot they ever did in the first place. But Hinata’s desk sits empty in the middle of the back row of the classroom, his doodles still un-erased from its surface, and Kageyama can’t get the feeling of emptiness out of his chest. He watches classmates as their gazes linger on where Hinata should be and as the desk piles high with get-well cards and chocolates and balloons from them all in hopes that he will wake up and walk in loudly and obnoxiously like he always does to find all the love and kindness that waited for him all this time. Teachers go silent when they arrive at his name in roll call, run tired hands over their faces, but somehow always forget to not begin saying it each morning. The room becomes eerily silent sometimes, like they all expect him to burst out laughing, to crack a stupid joke, to flick a wad of paper at Kageyama that will ensue chaos, to scream out some sudden revelation about volleyball or to start snoring, but he never does. Kageyama receives pats on the back that make him cringe, words that mean nothing to him, apologies and sad looks and pity. Still though, he feels the restlessness in class at the absence of Hinata. People have left before, he’s sure of it, but none of them caused the ones left behind feeling like something integral has gone missing.

His mother knocks softly on his bedroom door a few hours after he gets home and comes in with dinner for him. Her face is scrunched in concern, because her son hasn’t eaten in weeks and she hears him awake late at night, walking around the halls unable to sleep, but he doesn’t see her because his face is buried in the pillows. She taps him lightly and places the plate on his bedside table, and he looks up at her, eyes hollow and misty likes he’s trying not to cry but can’t stop it. It pains her to see her child like this. She doesn’t say a word, enveloping him in her arms. Kageyama doesn’t move for a long while, his trembling hands hanging by his side, but his eyes squeeze tightly shut in an attempt to stop the tears. She hugs his skinny frame, shrunken from the days of not eating or sleeping, and he finally lifts his own arms to wrap them around his mother, clinging to her for hours and hours and through the night, in hopes that maybe it will help, that maybe if he just doesn’t let go he won’t have to feel so empty anymore, that maybe Hinata will finally wake up.

He stops going to volleyball practice, stops playing all together. He’s not sure why. There are new first years Nishinoya mentions are talented with a hopeful look in his eye, like maybe Kageyama would come if he could toss to new recruits. He tries to show up a few times to play, but each time he ends up unable to toss the ball correctly, maybe because no one is there to spike it like Hinata can, no one to smile brightly at him after a perfect toss, to laugh and jump at him in celebration despite his protests not to. There’s no one to grab his hand as they walk home when they’re too tired to run, or to race with, or share food with, to share warmth with. Maybe it’s because the room feels inherently wrong without him to light it with the energy and excitement he seemed to radiate constantly, like something vital has been snatched away, or maybe it’s the looks his teammates give him when he lets the ball fall to the floor without even trying to touch it, even though he knows they don’t mean the pity. Anyway, it doesn’t matter to him, volleyball, not anymore, and he fails to even realize how strange this is for a boy like him, a boy whose very existence centered around the game nearly his entire life. He knows he’s nothing without volleyball. But then again, he’s nothing without Hinata either.

Daichi and Suga express their concern one day, arriving together before his way home from school. He thinks it strange that they’ve come just to see if he’s okay, despite being in college now, with classes and responsibilities far more important than he. Daichi asks him why he’s not playing anymore, as Tanaka mentioned it to him, lightly, as if it’s no big deal, but Kageyama recognizes the worry written on his face, worry he’s seen on countless others, his mother, Nishinoya, Tanaka, but he only reassures him he’s just “not feeling well”, that he doesn’t think he’ll be playing for a while. Daichi’s eyebrows scrunch together, and he looks unconvinced, but he only nods. Suga parts his mouth, as if to say something else, but thinks better of it, and only smiles gently as Kageyama. He recognizes the smile too, one he’s received too many times to count, one he’s sick of seeing, but he doesn’t mind it so much, when Suga is the one smiling at him.

And Kageyama goes home every day from school, walking slowly, and thinking of how desperately he wants Hinata to wake up, Hinata who would walk beside him and try to snatch his hand in his own small and warm one so he could swing their arms back and forth between them. Kageyama wishes he let him hold his hand more. He wishes he paid more attention to the way Hinata’s lips pouted when he was annoyed or concentrating, the way his body moved, arms swinging backward, calves flexing, when he jumped higher than should be possible for such a small stature, to the way his soft, orange hair swept across his forehead, to the way he sounded after a hard practice, or a quick toss, or when he just woke up, to the way his cheeks reddened when he was embarrassed or freckles appeared on them when the sun shone brightly, or the way his warm, brown eyes looked both gentle and intense at exactly the same moment, to the way he sometimes looked at Kageyama with that same look. Kageyama wishes he could take back all the times he snatched his hand away or yelled in irritation or hit Hinata a little too hard, all the times he didn’t do what he so badly wanted to when he saw Hinata looking at him like he wanted him to.

But he doesn’t go to see Hinata, lying asleep in a white hospital bed, because he doesn’t want to see the paleness of his once always rosy skin, or his closed eyes, small veins spread purple across the lids, or his unmoving body, his cold skin. It’s been one month and three weeks since Kageyama has seen him, the last a glimpse of his bright orange hair on a gurney, being wheeled away to a room of surgeons and cold metal tools and sterilized tables so that maybe they could save his life.

He lies awake at night, unable to fall asleep, even though he wants the exhaustion to overtake him, because he’s tired of staying awake only to be miserable and lonely and angry and sad, and he calls out to Hinata, asleep in that hospital, sometimes aloud, sometimes whispering. He asks him to wake up, please, pleading with him to open his eyes, hoping and hoping for a voice to call back out to him, alive and for him.

It’s been one month and three weeks when he wakes up to his mother loudly calling his name as he walks to the kitchen, still bleary from sleep he hasn’t had in a long time. He dreamt of Hinata.

Her hands are wringing, and she’s biting her cheek to keep a smile from emerging. It’s been one month and three weeks when she tells him, voice a little too loud for so early in the morning, that Hinata woke up.

_Hinata woke up._

* * *

 

Hinata is sleeping when he gets there, chest rising and falling gently, and Kageyama thinks for a moment he might have imagined what his mother told him, turns to whoever is there in confusion, but the doctor catches sight of the growing worry on his face and reassures him that in cases like Hinata’s, where comas last much longer, he will be awake for only a few minutes at a time until full recovery. _It’s a miracle_ , he says. A miracle. Hinata is a miracle. Kageyama already knew that though.

He sits on a chair beside the bed, looking around at all the get-well cards, the balloons and flowers, some wilted and dead, some freshly picked, several volleyballs in the corner, posters hung up on the walls. The room is full to the brink with love, bright with colors, like Hinata, and Kageyama smiles at that. He reaches out to touch Hinata’s hand, so much smaller than his own, light freckles sprinkling the knuckles despite how long it’s been since he’s been in the sunlight. Hinata rustles at his touch though, and Kageyama thinks for a moment to pull away, but decides to hold their hands together, at least until he wakes up.

He does, eventually, maybe an hour into Kageyama’s visit. His light-brown eyes flutter open, and Kageyama watches the slight confusion on his face before he realizes where he is again, before he looks at him, and he thinks Hinata has probably never been more beautiful than he is right now, gazing softly at Kageyama, a small smile dancing on his lips, his hair grown too long and curling around his ears, his skin pale, freckles stark against it.

But Kageyama, when he sees Hinata’s gaze travel down to their intertwined fingers, pulls his hand away, feeling suddenly like he’s done something he shouldn’t have, like maybe if he touches Hinata he will leave again. Hinata frowns for a second, but it disappears just as suddenly, and he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m awake.” His voice comes out raspy from disuse. Kageyama wants to laugh at the simplicity of such an obvious statement, but finds he can’t.

“You slept a really long time,” he says, voice strained.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” But Kageyama doesn’t feel like it is. “How are you feeling?”

“Gross. Like, really hungry, but I need to puke too. And I don’t think I’ve had a shower in a while. Wait, how long was it?”

“You don’t know?”

“Mom didn’t want to tell me, said it wasn’t good for me know quite yet. Anyway I fell asleep right after she said that.”

“Almost two months.” Hinata grimaces at that.

“You should have seen me the first time. I was so confused I nearly punched a nurse. She was cute, too.”

“Dumbass.”

“But you’re here. And I’m not really confused. Maybe it’s you, Kageyama.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice his inability to speak though, his eyes drooping, voice slurring already. He yawns loudly.

“Are you sleepy again already?”

“Yeah.”

“Then sleep.”

Hinata yawns again, smiling through misty eyes at Kageyama.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I guess. I mean— of course I will be.”

But Hinata has fallen asleep already, snoring lightly, so Kageyama says something to him, quite, precious, three small words, because he won’t hear. He won’t know.

* * *

 

Hinata wakes for a few minutes longer each time, just as the doctor said, and each time there’s another teammate there to greet him sitting alongside Kageyama, who tends to not leave most of the time, except maybe to sleep, and when the doctors shove him out for fear he might need to be hospitalized himself. Suga and Daichi are the first to arrive, congratulating him on his recovery, relief on their happy faces. Kiyoko comes with homemade chocolates, which Hinata devours in about a minute flat, despite Kageyama telling him he’ll get sick, which he does, especially with not having eaten for almost two months. Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Asahi all arrive too, the first two boisterous and loud, annoying a few nurses, but making Hinata laugh so hard he chokes, and the sound is music to all their ears. They leave though, when Tanaka accidently throws Nishinoya into a vase of yellow roses, and are escorted out, followed by an exasperated Asahi. Kenma visits, quiet and thoughtful as always, and braids Hinata’s long hair as he chatters away to him. Even Tsukishima visits, along with Yamaguchi, bringing with them the new first years to meet Hinata. He says it’s because he wants them to witness Hinata in his weakened state, almost making Kageyama punch him, but even Kageyama sees the relief in his expression, a rare softness none of them have been witness to before, except perhaps Yamaguchi, who accidently hugs Hinata a little too hard upon seeing him. Hinata beams at them all, and the first years love him immediately, for his youthful loudness and excitement, for the brightness of his eyes, of his being.

Hinata’s parents and little sister wait much of the time with Kageyama, when Hinata sleeps, and he watches them sometimes out of the corner of his eye, the way his mother smiles like Hinata, the way his father’s hair is the same shade of orange, and the way his sister bounces up and down and laughs and talks just like Hinata does. Kageyama speaks with them sometimes, when he feels less like he will screw up his words, and his mother especially treats him kindly, always warm smiles reminiscent of the ones Hinata gave him, gives him, always ruffling his hair, talking to him even when he doesn’t have the words to reply. He thinks maybe he can grow to love Hinata’s mother like his own mother.

But sometimes, more often than not, when Hinata wakes up for increasingly longer periods of time, Kageyama finds himself drawing away, folding into himself. He doesn’t touch Hinata, because he looks so fragile and small, smaller than he had been, and he speaks only in stunted words, “good morning” or “good night” or “how are you feeling,” but never anything more. Kageyama doesn’t understand why, because Hinata almost died— Hinata was gone, and he should be reveling in the miracle. He sees Hinata doesn’t understand why either by the look on his face when Kageyama pulls away his hand when he reaches out to it, or fails to respond except maybe a grunt or a single word, sees the hurt in Hinata’s eyes.

But missing Hinata so horribly he thought he would never breathe the same again, when he thought he’d never come back, it took something from Kageyama he didn’t know he had in the first place, left him an empty vessel, and his eyes stung at night, even when the tears wouldn’t fall, and he didn’t see a point to anything anymore. Maybe he’s scared, maybe he can’t imagine reliving a time when Hinata is gone. Maybe he doesn’t want to lose the boy that stares at him from a hospital bed with pained and worried eyes, wondering what could possibly be wrong.

* * *

 

They tell Hinata he might be able to gain back the muscle he lost in time to play for inter-high preliminaries. He does the exercises given to him during physical therapy with vigor, sometimes a little too much vigor, which doesn’t fare well with anyone, the doctors, his parents, or Kageyama. He sometimes has trouble remembering certain words, and Kageyama sees the frustrated scrunch of his eyebrows and the pout on his lips as he struggles to find the words, sometimes close to tears.

But the progress is remarkable, his therapist remarks, and Kageyama feels a bubble of pride for Hinata, who beams brightly at the news, little chest puffed out. They’ve never seen a coma patient who’s recovered as quickly as Hinata has, especially considering his small stature and severe injuries.

He leaves the hospital finally, right before the New Year, albeit in a wheelchair. It’s protocol though, because Hinata walks fine now, hair bouncing up and down even more so than usual, since he’s still not gotten it cut, opting instead to pull it into a short ponytail. It looks good on him, Kageyama thinks. Hinata even threatens to race Kageyama, but the nurses glare at him when he tries, and push him immediately back into the wheelchair. He mopes for only a moment, before returning back to the bright, toothy smile, getting into the awaiting car with a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder and an arm around his waist for support, waving goodbye with endless gratitude to all those who cared for him the past months, and going home.

* * *

 

“Why have you been acting so weird?”

They’re sitting on the benches outside school, Kageyama with a box of milk in his hand, Hinata a meat bun, and Kageyama doesn’t let their thighs touch like they used to. Hinata’s first day back at school earned him a lot of hugs and cheers and kisses on the cheek from people he didn’t know he knew. He beamed at all of them though, before Kageyama dragged him away, and when first setting eyes on all the chocolates and cards and balloons piled on his long awaited desk, Hinata’s eyes became misty. Kageyama had watched it all, forcing down a smile the entire day.

“Hu?”

“Ever since I woke up, you-you’ve been acting weird with me.”

Kageyama’s eyes linger on the scar still get to fade on Hinata forehead, wandering into his hairline. It is a pale white, tinged with red, even against the pallor of Hinata’s skin, not quite returned to normal from all his time asleep. He remembers the blood. Hinata still has trouble with certain words.

“How?”

“I don’t know. You don’t touch me anymore. You hardly talk at all. I mean, I thought we were- I thought we were closer than this, but it just feels like we’re back to when you hated my guts and I hated yours.”

“That’s not true.”

“Which part?”

Kageyama slurps the rest of the milk noisily, not knowing what to say.

“I don’t know? All of it.”

“It is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Is!”

“It’s not!” Kageyama says, a little too loudly, jumping from his seat. People glance his way as they walk past. Hinata looks at him, a mix of shocked and angry, like he’s fed up somehow. Kageyama doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but he hates that look on Hinata’s face.

“I wish you wouldn’t deny it,” he says quietly.

But Kageyama doesn’t answer. He walks away, leaving Hinata behind, feeling the lump in his throat, and he hates himself for it. Hinata watches his retreating back, feeling like crying too.

* * *

 

Suga visits after school in the gym, mentioning how he’s missed playing, missed Hinata. He’s allowed back in with special privileges, courtesy of Takeda. He tells Hinata Daichi wanted to come too, but got caught up with homework. College is hard for the both of them, and Hinata tries to sympathize, but his mind is preoccupied.

He drives the ball down too hard at Suga’s toss to him, and Suga immediately asks what’s wrong, concerned.

“It’s Bakageyama. He won’t talk to me,” Hinata says, angry. He squeezes the ball, imagining Kageyama’s head, a little too hard.

“It’s like, ever since I woke up he acts like we were never friends. Or, I mean, he just doesn’t act like we were, I don’t know, closer.”

Suga smiles at Hinata, so focused on squeezing the volleyball he’s turning red.

“Hinata-kun, did anyone tell you what happened to Kageyama after you went into the coma?”

“No. Why?”

“Kageyama stopped playing. He couldn’t, not without you there. He couldn’t sleep, or eat. I saw it, how he changed without you there. It was like something broke inside him and he couldn’t fix it, and now you’re back when he didn’t believe you ever would be. I don’t think he knows how to feel. He doesn’t understand what it was he felt when you were gone.”

Hinata looks at Suga blankly.

“Kageyama- that really happened?”

“It did.”

Hinata looks like the gears in his head are shifting, slightly distressed, like he’s thinking so hard his head might explode. His eyes light suddenly, as if he’s had an epiphany, and he dashes out the door, calling out a thanks behind his shoulder to Suga, turning his teammates’ heads at the dust he’s left behind, and Suga smiling gently after him.

* * *

 

Kageyama startles at the loud knocking on his bedroom door. He rises slowly, hesitantly, because his mother doesn’t knock like that, and the only person who does he walked away from feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

“Kageyama!” Hinata yells through the door. “Your mom said you were in here. Let me in! Hey, Ka—,” Hinata practically falls into him when he opens the door. He shoves him off.

“Ah, finally!” He’s breathless, his face tinted red, like he’s run all the way here.

“What do you want?”

Hinata pouts at him. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Why?”

Hinata pushes past him anyway, ignoring his question and flopping down on his unmade sheets, exhausted.

“Hinata, why are you here?”

“Can you come over here please?”

Kageyama sighs exasperatedly and forces his legs to move forward to sit cross-legged on the bed, making sure there’s enough space between them so they do not touch. Hinata sits up though, crawling across the bed to sit facing him, so close Kageyama feels his breath tickle his nose, and he reaches up his hands to Kageyama cheeks, squishing them together.

“Oi, what the hell,” Kageyama grunts through puckered lips.

“Shhh, I have something I need to say.”

But he doesn’t say anything, just shifts, never removing his hands, looking so deeply into his face Kageyama feels the need to get away. But the warm fingers keep him there, looking right back at him. Finally, Hinata releases a single hand to grab Kageyama’s and brings them, clasped together, to his chest, rising and falling rapidly, to feel his fast heartbeat through the soft cotton of his uniform. He feels how skinny Hinata has gotten, even after gaining back so much, the bones that broke so easily. Hinata’s other hand trails down Kageyama’s chest, to his torso, his legs, finger tips tracing bruises faded yellow at the edges and over old and new scars. Kageyama feels his own scattered thoughts, a bit too messy for him to even attempt an untangling of the mess they’ve become.

“What are you—”

“Sshh, I told you. It’s okay.”

So he stays silent, watching Hinata watch him, so familiar a sensation, yet so foreign too.

“Look. I’m here. My-my….” He sees Hinata struggle to find the word.

“Your heart,” he says quietly.

“Can’t you feel it?” Hinata looks at him, open and beautiful.

He nods.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t- I was scared. Hinata, you weren’t going to wake up. And then you did, and I was scared.”

“But I did. I’m here now, with you. I’m alive.”

“I know that.”

“Then do something.”

So he does. Kageyama does. He leans forward to bridge the tiny gap between them, pressing their lips together. Hinata is warm and trembling, and his lips part slightly for Kageyama as he presses their chests flush together, two heartbeats beating loudly against each other. He’s alive. He’s breathing. They both are.

* * *

 

“You know, Kageyama, I think I dreamt you while I was sleeping,” Hinata whispers to him later, after they’d fallen together beneath the covers, tracing each other’s skin, kissing some more. Kageyama flushes as his fingers trace alongside Hinata’s chin, the freckles that bridge his nose, the scar.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think you woke me up.”

“Wow.” Honestly, he doesn’t know what else to say, but his eyes are wide, and Hinata laughs his beautiful laugh.

“I’m really glad I woke up.”

“Me too.”

“I think I really, really like you, Kageyama. Like the kind of like where it’s almost love, kind of.”

Kageyama smiles.

“I love you, too.”

This time, Hinata is awake to hear it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i had a lot of fun writing this, but realize all the mistakes too, so if you could comment on how i can improve? only if you want though. even like "hey i read your thing it sucked" is awesome.  
> 


End file.
